Summer Art Festival

Having grown up in a house with an artist/blacksmith father, Omaha's summer art fair draws me. I enjoy the new mediums, the new ideas, and art with a flair of humor is pleasing. Omaha's Hot Shop has a booth of traditional blacksmithing. The smell of the forge and hot metal brings back my childhood days watching my dad make parts for the rancher's equipment. He did his share of decorative wrought iron as well.



A favorite event is a shady seat and listening to the Native American Music Group, Brule. They are a nice blend of classical training, Indian drumming and flute, all coming together in a sweet way. The father, Paul LaRoche, is joined by his daughter and son. This year we bought one of their new CD's, Lakota Piano II. It is beautiful

A Sand Pile Extravaganza

Sixteen tons of sand makes a big sand pile. He Who Must Be Obeyed had it dumped on the front drive way; he shoveled it into a wheelborrow and spread it under the pine trees in the back yard. Three big toads dug their way out of it. It fulfilled the purpose of making the area weed free for about three or four years. Years of pineneedles have made a lovely mulch under those Scotch Pines. The entire city is full of dying pine trees. The blight/beetles march down streets one tree at a time.



The sand dumped near the Missouri River a couple of months ago was enjoyed by young and old. There is no greater fun than a big pile of sand full of little children with their pails and shovels.




Family fun is encouraged in our beautiful city known for corn and big trees...the only time I think of corn is when the street corner stands advertise "Sweet Corn and Tomatoes."

The smartest man in America

The smartest man in America

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Joy in the Train Station

A friend sent this link to me:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7EYAUazLI9k

I wish I were skilled in putting the little video right on to the page.

Life can always use a little joy and the act of smiling warms the heart.

When a person can't string a few words together, what makes them think they can finish a book? My days are woven together with small activities, beating down stress, enjoying small delights, and ever, ever thankful for the kind help of He Who Must Be Obeyed.

Juhannus, a Magical Day

As a child of the Finnish immigrant community in the Cave Hills of northwest South Dakota, I enjoyed the Juhannus picnic in Casper's Gulch. It was a day of treats, competitions, ball games, food and homemade ice cream. The women of the Cave Hills Lutheran church, Suomi Synod, made hand goods such as pillow cases, doilies, quilts, pot holders and hand loomed rugs to be auctioned off for the church treasury. My Grandpa Tuovinen called the auction. My grandmother was the weaver of the rugs and perhaps Mrs. Tilus.

In the Finnish midsummer celebration, bonfires (Finnish kokko)are very common and are burnt at lakesides and by the sea. Often two young birch trees (koivu) are placed on either side of the front door to welcome visitors. In Midsummer night the sauna is typically heated and family and friends are invited to bathe and to grill.

When my mother and I were in Finland in 1980, our Tuovinen relatives invited family members to their home to visit. The birch trees had been placed on either sides of their front door to welcome Midsummer visitors. We met our female relatives during sauna on their sauna island and the men at the cabin coffee table. Seppo had made us fresh birch switches for the occasion. A couple of dives into the lake were refreshing as well. It was a magical, memorable Juhannus.

"Before 1316, the summer solstice was called Ukon juhla, after the Finnish god Ukko. In e.g. Karelian tradition, many bonfires were burned side by side, the biggest of which was called Ukko-kokko (the "bonfire of Ukko"). After the celebrations were Christianized, the holiday is known as juhannus after John the Baptist (Finnish: Johannes Kastaja).

Sick Sinus Syndrome

The heart is a mysterious thing both literally and metaphorically. For a couple of weeks after getting the pacer, I felt great and resumed my normal routine of mowing, tree trimming, general cleanup inside and out. Swelling and high blood pressure of late has resulted in a new prescription, blood tests and more appointments with both my General Practitioner and Cardiologist. It is very discouraging as I have things to do, places to go, and do not have time nor the 'heart' for this business. Two or three days on this new drug should bring the blood pressure down. It would be nice if it happens.

In the meantime, dependent adult family members call to tattle on one another, expect financial hand outs, and generally are the victims their own stupidity and poor decisions. They are the result of our poor parenting, genetic bi-polar disease, Godlessness, and a litany of anti-social behaviors. It wears heavily on the heart and gives me a headache.

I treasure my little heart and cling to every metaphor it embodies; however, I am a little put out with the tricks it is playing of late.

Wild Swans
I looked in my heart while the wild swans went over.
and what did I see I had not seen before?
Only a question less or a question more:
Nothing to match the flight of wild birds flying.
Tiresome heart, forever living and dying,
House without air. I leave you and lock your door.
Wild swans, come over the town, come over
The town again, trailing your legs and crying!

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Young Cowboy Wins in Winner, SD

How sweet it is when a young cowboy wins the lottery. This is all the sweeter as he lives in one of the poorest parts of America. The write up in the Rapid City Journal warms the heart and we rejoice with this family.

Doris Haveman, who works at Klein School, the country school where Wanless attended from kindergarten through 8th grade, said he went to college but eventually returned home to the ranch. "He was a very likable student," Haveman said. He was a well-behaved kid, very well behaved."

A Bird in the Hand

As I watered and weeded the front yard yesterday afternoon, I heard a little chirping/quacking and from the old Maple in the middle of the yard came two little duckling fledgelings. I could hardly believe my eyes. We are in the middle of Omaha, any kind of water is not near, unless our small pool in the back qualifies.

I scooped the two babies up and brought them into the house to display my marvelous find. Sure enough flat little beaks and webbed little feet. Just like a five year old, I thought that I should have little ducks. He Who Must Be Obeyed gave me the wise advice that not only did the little ducks need a mother duck, the mother duck needed her babies.

We turned them loose near where I was weeding and Mother Duck came flying in to gather them and hide them in the corner.

The sweet little neighbor girl came over with gloves on to help me weed under the Hews and as she went down the row she spotted the ducks. I had told her my duckling story and pointed out the hole in the Maple which had obviously been their nest. Off she went for her camera and her mother. The photos were shared. It hadn't even occurred to me to photograph them when I had two in the hand instead of one in the bush.